


of tea bags and carnations

by cookiethewriter



Series: all we see is light -- rokat [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blind Date, Multi, also this is obviously AU, announce in my discord on halloween!, but this IS a prequel to something that i will, i really really love this a lot lmao, okay so, so for now please give this a try, this ISN'T ambreigns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 23:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20732795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: He loves his best friend, he really does, like a brother. Since they’d known each other, Dean had learned which buttons he could push that would and wouldn’t get him knocked out, but this was a whole new button, one even he didn’t know about.or: in which roman's best friend dean sets him up with someone who isn't that bad, actually.





	of tea bags and carnations

**Author's Note:**

> this is something i started for a couple friends' challenge that i ultimately had to pull out of, but i continued writing it just to see where it would go. it just so happened to really GO somewhere, and is now a prequel to something that'll be coming out this december. i know this isn't ambreigns or romox, and i'm not done with those, but i hope you give this a chance and enjoy it if you do. c:

“I still don’t see why you’re makin’ me sit through this with you,” Roman Reigns grouses where he sits with his best friend, his partner in crime, Dean Ambrose. “You know as well as I do that blind dates aren’t really my deal - and worse, I don’t even get to  _ know _ anything about mine?” He loves his best friend, he really does, like a brother. Since they’d known each other, Dean had learned which buttons he could push that would and wouldn’t get him knocked out, but this was a whole new button, one even  _ he _ didn’t know about. 

Dean only manages a shrug. “C’mon, man. I’ve been your Plus One for countless work functions and shit. Not to mention, you’re the one who introduced me to my girl in the first place - she just happens to know somebody who could use a night out. It don’t have to be anything if ya don’t have a connection, but what if ya  _ do _ ?” 

He did have a point. And it wasn’t like he had other plans, and he  _ did _ like his boy’s girlfriend Renee, so anyone she knew was bound to be someone he could vibe with too. Granted, he tended to attract …  _ weirdos _ … as he levels a look over at Dean who’s two seconds from stabbing himself with a knife as he tries to spin it between his fingers. 

Breathing a chuckle, Roman bats at his arm. “This is the last time you two are gonna gang up on me though, right? Because between you and Ma, I swear…”

“Eeeeasy, big man. I promise. I didn’t even mean to treat this like a double-date, I just wanted to hang out with my favorite people and my favorite girl’s friend.” It was probably the closest to an apology that he’d get, but Roman relents anyway. He can’t stay mad at Dean no matter what foolish thing he does. 

“So, do you know anythi--”

“Sorry we’re late!” in bounds Renee Young, a young up-and-coming producer for the local news station. She was a pretty girl with short blonde hair, bright brown eyes and a smile that lights up the small bar. Dean stands up and kisses her in greeting, and Roman stands to pull her into a hug. “You would  _ not _ believe the kind of afternoon we’ve had just trying to get this woman looking like a woman and not a stuffy doctor.” 

There’s an indignant huff behind her, which draws all three pairs of eyes to the fourth member of their party, and for a minute, Roman’s heart beats extra hard; she’s a little bit taller than Renee at full height, with thick copper-red hair and piercing gray-blue eyes. She’s dressed down in a pair of jeans and a battered gray leather jacket that’s almost a size too large for her, and he wonders idly if he should be expecting her to pull out a cigarette or something. But, no, she simply sends the back of Renee’s head a semi-dirty look before defeat makes her posture sag slightly. 

“Okay so, introductions!” Renee claps her hands, has a big smile on her face, and it makes Roman jump slightly when his attention is brought back to her. “Roman, Dean, this is Katelina. She owns the little clinic that just opened up where the old farm stand used to be. Kat, this is my boyfriend Dean,” Dean nods his head at her, and she straightens and nods as well. Then, Renee gets a teasing smile on her face. “And this is  _ his _ boyfriend, Roman.” 

Roman snorts at the look that earns him, and he levels her - Kat - with a very slight grin. “ _ Best _ friend. She’s just jealous that he likes me more.” 

Renee only laughs. He can see Kat looks a little overwhelmed, so he stands up again to hold his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Kat.” 

It takes her a minute, but she holds her hand out and brushes it with his, grip loose, and she pulls her hand away. “You too.” 

Things kick off when Renee offers to buy their first round of beers. As they nurse their first drinks for the night, they catch everyone up on how their week was going, any workplace drama, and Renee regales the group on the latest celebrity drama. Dean shares his frustrations with a couple of coworkers, how they’re more concerned with clowning around than doing their job, which means he usually has to pick up their slack else the boss chew everyone out. Roman moans about an upcoming function his workplace is putting on and extends open invitations to them should they choose to go. Renee loves parties, Dean not so much, but Kat doesn’t really say much of anything during that time. She’s not shown much life since she’d gotten there, and while Dean and Renee might not have noticed - or, the more likely choice, were pretending they didn’t - Roman definitely had. 

At about everyone’s third drink, Kat starts talking. It’s more jilted conversation than comfortable, but she’s talking about patients she’s had and answers Dean’s weird medical questions, like “What’s the weirdest thing someone’s put up their ass?”, and she patiently tells him stories of finding odd things like tiny figurines lodged wholly in someone’s ass, and he covers his mouth and laughs with abandon at the stupid things she fills him in on. Eventually, he turns his attention to Renee, leaving Kat to quietly rub her fingernail around the rim of her glass. 

Roman takes his shot.

“So, you work in medicine long?” He takes a big chug of beer and licks at his lips. At the sound of his voice, Kat noticeably twitches. 

“More or less,” she takes a decent mouthful of her own booze, and Roman delights in the fact that she’s had enough in that one drink alone to match the amount left in his glass. He detects a small competitive edge. “Mum would let me read some of her journals. And my sister and I often ambled around the clinic she worked in while she prepped patients for one of the doctors.” The way she mentions her mother gives away that she wasn’t here anymore, and he feels his heart sink. 

“You have a sister? Does she live around here, too?”

“She moved out of my place a few months back. She works in the florist shop a block away from here. I get fresh herbs and flowers from her almost weekly to make into salves or homemade teas.” 

Roman nods his head, intrigued. Takes a big gulp of beer. He watches as she does the same, but ends up taking a little bit more, just enough that he notices. Definitely competitive. “Do you sell those at the clinic?” 

“Oh, I don’t sell them. I store my teas and use them for patients. To calm them if they have anxiety, or if they’re nauseous, that sort of thing.” 

“Ol’ timey, huh?” 

“Something like that.” It’s the first time he’s seen a smile on her face, even though it’s small. Kind of similar to the little quirk of mouth Dean does when he’s feeling shy, though the difference is Dean’s dimples pop on his left cheek when he does. Kat doesn’t have them, that he sees. Then, she squirms, and eyes him like she’s analyzing his every movement. “So, what do you do?” 

The rest of the night, they don’t stop talking, except to take drinks. Kat ends up finishing behind him, by a hair, but by the time they notice, Dean’s shitfaced and Renee’s trying to corral him back into his stool while he tries to get on the counter to sing whatever song is quietly playing on the radio behind the bar. Roman chuckles, watching the scene with the fondness of a lifelong adoration for his best friend, and Kat’s body starts to wobble back and forth. His chuckling stills and he gets up, fishing out his wallet. 

“‘Nay, I think it’s time we get these two home.” 

“Good plan.” She only had the one beer and polished off a Sprite not too long ago. “Come on, Dean.” 

Dean stands up, wobbles a little too much, and nearly collapses on Kat’s back as she hops off the stool herself, but Roman steadies him with a firm, strong hand and Renee moves Kat just to the side to avoid it. 

“I’ll take him back to my place to sleep this off. You do  _ not _ wanna see hungover Ambrose, trust me.” 

“Another good plan. Plus, I’m the only one who knows where this lady lives.” She nudges Kat, who’s started breathing a little hard, not loud but noticeable, and she looks about ready to tear her shirt off before Renee stops her. “Oh, boy. Let’s get you home, ol’ girl.” She has to hold Kat’s shirt down so she doesn’t raise it up, and Roman finds the scene oddly cute, with emphasis on ‘odd’. “I’ll text you.” 

“I’ll text you back.” He says, rubbing the top of her hair affectionately, before wrapping an arm around his boy’s waist. “Come on, asshole, let’s get you to bed.” 

* * *

Roman and Kat text for the next few weeks, building a strong friendship. 

He’s not very surprised that she’s a bit more social this way. She’s about the only person besides Dean who’s managed to capture his attention via text for this long, but it’s about all they can manage as far as talking to each other when her schedule is so busy. 

Apparently, she doesn’t get a lot of free time. Any offtime she does get, she spends doing more work - paperwork, making her teas and stuff, hanging out around the clinic - and while Roman can appreciate when a person cares about their job as much as he does, he worries that no offtime is bad for her  _ own _ health. Of course, she brushes him off. 

_ I can do what I need to do AND relax, Roman _ \- she texts him. 

He texts back -  **Maybe you’d like some company?**

She hadn’t had a chance to respond when he pulled up to a tiny townhouse, and he has to look down at the piece of paper one of the nurses at the clinic had written her address on. There’s an old red pick-up truck in front of the place and he parks behind it, his black SUV looking out of place. Getting out, he walks around both vehicles and has about a half-second to admire the beat-up truck before the door opens and he hears a throat being cleared a little too loudly to be natural, and he looks up to see Kat in a big flannel shirt and pair of jeans, a hand on her hip. 

“How did you find where I lived?” 

“Someone at your clinic told me. Gavin, I think?” 

She rolls her eyes at that - obviously, she was familiar - and she shakes her head. “Traitor. Okay, get in here. You can help me box up these teas.” 

Her house is small on the outside, but when he gets inside, it’s the perfect size for one person; she doesn’t have a lot of big, clunky furniture, just a big couch and loveseat under a window and adjacent wall, and there’s a couple bookcases on either side of a big screen TV that looks like it’s barely used. There are pictures along any empty wall in the living room, and as he looks into the clean kitchen to his right, he can smell fresh flowers and herbs in assortments on her counter. Curiously, he looks around at her before she’s walking in front of him, her hair loose and curling slightly on the bottom. 

“I have some empty tea bags and thread to tie them with,” she says, handing him some twine as she goes back to filling one of the cloth sacks with dried leaves and herbs. “It won’t take too much longer. Then we can put them in boxes and I’ll run them over to the clinic later.” 

Roman follows her lead, tying the little sack closed and setting it aside. Before he knows it, they’ve filled a small box of bags that she later labels  **Peppermint** . She puts that small box into a duffel bag filled with other small boxes, of which he can see  **Hawthorn** and  **Rosehip** . 

“Have you considered selling these?” he can see other smaller boxes inside the bag - not that he was snooping, but she  _ did _ leave it open. When he looks over at her, she’s giving him a curious look. “You could probably make some decent money.” 

“I don’t need the money. It’s only me living here, and I’m pretty well off. If it can help with recovery I give them to my patients, but I’m not looking to make a profit off of it.” She sounds slightly accusatory, and before Roman can backpedal and try and explain he didn’t mean it like that, she grins slightly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take offense. Just explaining. So, what’s up?” 

Of all the words used to describe Roman Reigns, shy wasn’t one of them. But suddenly, he feels butterflies swirling in his stomach, like the words he wants to say are just out of reach, and he clears his throat to try to bring  _ something _ to his vocal chords. Gratefully, something comes out that doesn’t sound absolutely ridiculous. 

“There’s a farmer’s market today, and since we happened to share a day off, I was curious if you wanted to join me.” 

For a beat, Kat simply stares at him. He has to pretend that the way her eyebrow raises in caution doesn’t make his heart thrum loudly in his ears like the bass of a speaker turned all the way up. Then her expression changes, cautious to curious, and she rubs behind her neck. “Uh, yeah, yeah. I could use some materials and produce anyway. Let’s drop these off on the way and then walk over.” 

The afternoon is filled with light conversation and Roman doing a lot of people watching. Namely, Kat-watching. He’s never seen a person get so excited over patches of cloth before, none of which seemed to match with each other. And the longer they walk along the walkway through the park in the middle of town, the more Roman finds himself feeling light as a feather, watching the way her expression totally changes when people call her by name and they have friendly banter for a while before she starts toward the last row of tables of crafts and produce. 

When Roman comes to stand next to her again, he elbows her arm gently. “Did you know those people or something?” 

‘Those people’ were an elderly couple, a man and a woman. The woman had long white curls pulled into a braid, some slipping out to frame her round face, while the man was missing some of his lower teeth but smiled all the same, his arm looped around who Roman assumed was his wife’s back, bald on top but thin hairs poking out around his ears. 

Kat shrugs her shoulders, bypassing a stand of smushed berries and instead stopping by one with various beans, tomatoes and cucumbers. “They’re patients. Kind of the clinic grandparents - they bring me fresh jams and pickles in the fall and I waive Mrs. Hickey’s bills.” 

“Why?” He hopes it sounds more curious than demanding. Luckily, she seems to smile. 

“Mrs. Hickey is an old patient of my Mum. She had a stroke about a year ago that she didn’t really recover from, and it’s getting harder and harder for her to get around without Mr. Hickey.” 

His heart hurts for the Hickey’s. In the moment, it hurts for Kat a little more, the way her voice gets a little tense at the end of it. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Kat. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s. It’s fine. She still has a while yet to go. Her last check-up was the best I’d seen her.” Still, he sees the way her fingers shoot to her eyes and flick something away, and he puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting, and she jumps a little bit at the contact before she sniffles and leans forward to grab a bushel of the green beans and wave over the farmer so he can help her tally up the cost. She also takes some peas, a couple of big tomatoes and a big cucumber. She pays the vendor in kind, waves goodbye, and they move onto the next one. 

The rest of the walk through the farmer’s market is quiet, and Roman isn’t sure it’s the kind of quiet he’d like to let things hang in. But he doesn’t want to push her, knows a few people that bristle at other people’s concerns and he’d like to consider himself fluent in that language, so he proceeds to follow a bit behind her, lets her take the lead in both a literal and figurative sense.

The last table is a little stand under a tent, seedlings of a bunch of different vegetables, herbs and flowers placed neatly on three separate tables wrapping around the tent. Sitting in the shade is a girl with blonde hair in tight curls mostly hidden by a brilliant white sun hat, a pale yellow sundress, and designer sunglasses perched on a small nose. When she sees them approach, her entire body lights up. 

“Kat! I was wondering if I’d see you!” 

Roman’s surprised at the way Kat’s mood completely changes, like she hadn’t been upset at all, as the blonde bounds up to her and they hug each other with a tight fierceness that made him chuckle. Kat, meanwhile, let out a cough and hugged around the other girl’s back tightly, just not as much. 

“Hey, Gracie. Sell any babies yet?” 

“A few, yeah! More bouquets than babies, but- hey, you interested in buying seedlings or flowers, sir?” 

Roman is pulled away from watching - oh no, he was  _ watching _ again…! - to look at the girl, who was looking at him with expectant excitement. Pointing to himself, to confirm, and looked at Kat a bit for help before he shakes his head in polite refusal. “Oh, no thanks, I’m useless with plants. My old roommate can attest to that.” 

“Oh, I see. How about a bouquet for the lovely lady?” she has this little grin on her face that reminds him of a certain best friend of his, and before he can even think of a response, Kat whaps the back of the girl’s head lightly with the palm of her hand. 

Roman balks.

“Gracie, it’s not like that. Jesus. This is my friend Roman, and Roman, this is my little sister Grace.” 

“Little? Hah! That’s a good one.” 

“I  _ am _ technically older than you.” Kat. 

“By a couple minutes only!” Grace.

“And those couple minutes are all the clearance an older twin needs to be the boss of their younger twin.” 

“Uh huh, suuuuuure.” 

Roman’s head spins a little bit, and he looks between them; now that he really takes in this girl - Grace - and looks at Kat’s features a little closer, they look almost  _ identical _ . Their coloring is different, Grace having golden-blonde curly hair and lively green eyes while Kat had copper-red relaxed waves and piercing blue eyes, but there was no doubt in his mind that after seeing them standing next to each other, that they were twins. 

“So, this is the sister you told me about?” 

Kat nods, and so does Grace, and that makes Roman laugh cheerfully. “Yeah. My weirdo sister who calls her plants her babies and ogles flowers more than any other living thing.” 

He laughs again. “Well, flowers  _ are _ nice to look at it.” 

“Oh god, not you too.” 

Grace smiles, bright and friendly and points a prettily-manicured finger in his direction. “I like him, Kat. You should keep him.” 

His eyes widen slightly, unsure of what context that statement should be taken, and Kat only hides her face in her hands. “Well, this has been fun,” she says behind her fingers, “But we should be going now. Later,  _ Grace _ .” The way she says her sister’s name is close to menacing, making the hairs on the back of Roman’s neck stand up, but Grace doesn’t look bothered at all. She was much braver than he was, apparently. 

“Yeah,  _ Katelina _ . I’ll call you later. See ya, Roman!” With a final wink, Grace goes back to her stand, immediately getting distracted by a customer. He turns to look at Kat, ready for the signal to leave, but sees she’s already started stalking off. He takes a step after her, but from the corner of his eye sees something big and red, and he turns to look at it instead. 

He can feel his wallet burning a hole in his pocket, and he looks back to make sure he sees which direction Kat goes in before he turns back to stand in line. 

* * *

Kat hadn’t said a single thing since they left the farmer’s market, despite his attempts to change that. It doesn’t take long before he decides to take the quiet for what it is and walks with her quietly for a while. Eventually, when the park is well behind them and Kat’s clinic is in view, she speaks with a stilted voice. 

“I’m … uh, sorry about that. She gets excitable sometimes. I don’t really get the chance to introduce her to people like that.” 

“What, friends?” 

She looks at him, a little embarrassed, and he can answer for himself from her silence that she probably didn’t have many in the first place. Scrunching up his mouth, he nods his head. 

“I hear ya. All I’ve got is Dean, and by association, Renee. A couple guys at work. And now you.” 

_ And now you _ . 

The clinic comes up on them out of nowhere. Kat relays quietly that she’ll drive him back so he can grab his SUV, and he makes a noise of affirmation. 

The car ride back to her house is short and comfortably quiet. Street lamps glow orange above them as the sky gets progressively darker the further they get, and before he knows it, it’s halfway to dark. 

Roman gives her hair an affectionate rub, which she sputters at and bats at his hand like a disgruntled … well, cat. His lips quirk up in a half-smile and she has this pout on her face that looks about ready to crack into a smile any second. She lets out a yawn before it can, and he puts his hands up, placating. “Okay, okay. I hear you loud and clear. I’ll get outta your hair.” 

“Yeah. After you’ve already messed it up.” 

Laughing - it’s a sound that sounds much more like giggling, but he won’t admit to it - he waves at her over her shoulder, making his way back to his SUV and getting into the driver’s side. Coming in his direction is a green Prius, the words  _ Grace’s Flowers _ printed in perfect cursive made to look like a flower stem wrapping around the letters. He grins, honks his horn twice, and drives on down the road. 

He doesn’t see the Prius pull up in front of Kat’s house. And he wishes he could have seen the look on Kat’s face when her sister personally delivered a bouquet where, in the middle of it, was the big red carnation he’d seen as they were making their exit. 

_ “I want to buy this bouquet. But, can I have it delivered someplace?” _

_ “Sure thing! Do you want a tag or card?” _

_ “No, thank you. Just delivered.” _

_ “And where would you like it sent to?” _

Smiling, Roman turns up the rock song on the radio, not worried about how off-beat his hand was as it smacked against his steering wheel. All he could imagine was the look on Kat’s face as her own sister hand-delivered a bouquet to her, and most importantly, not knowing who it came from.

_ “Please don’t tell her it’s from me. I want to see what happens.” _

_ “You got it! Say, you know what a carnation means, right?” _

* * *

When Kat gets back inside her house, she can’t help but stare at the bright red carnation currently glaring at her face; after what had been a pretty relaxing day of tea-making and market-going, she can’t help but feel butterflies fluttering around her stomach, making the sweater she was wearing feel strange against her skin. Reaching behind her with deft fingers, she locks the latch on the door and moves the ball into its place to secure the door further before walking to the kitchen to quickly find a place for the flowers to go. 

No one had ever sent her flowers before. Could it have been Mr. Hickey, and that’s why he went out of his way to say hello to her earlier? Did she have some creepy stalker or something? ...no, she didn’t think it was that last one. She didn’t go out enough to really accumulate something like that. 

In a cupboard under the sink is a beautiful glass vase Renee had given to her as a congratulatory gift when she first opened the clinic. Fishing out a can of lemon-lime soda from the fridge, she dumps some into the vase after she fills it about halfway with water and puts the flowers in. The flowers smell sweet, and not just because of the soda, and she downs the rest of the can before she sets it on the counter. The vase goes right in the middle of her island and she just …  _ looks _ at it, pensive. 

“Who in their right mind…” she asks herself, but stops, because she knows a certain blonde who would want to know about this approximately five minutes ago. Taking out her phone and snapping a quick picture of the bouquet - bright red carnation front and center - she types a quick message to Renee. 

A response doesn’t come immediately, not until after Kat’s already showered and changed into a pair of basketball shorts and a flannel shirt, hair pulled into a high bun off her neck. She’s halfway to sleep before she gets a couple of texts from Renee, one after the other. The first is a picture, a screenshot, of what looked like a carnation with some words next to it. The next part is simple and makes her almost throw her phone across the room. 

**Carnation -- symbolizes pride and beauty. Red carnations stand for love, pride and admiration.**

**Looks like someone has a secret admirer. ;) **

“Y...yeah right,” Kat scoffs. “Stop screwing with me.” 

_ And now you. _

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr! i'm cookiethewriter there, too!
> 
> (feel free to ask about my discord! to be invited, send me a PM on tumblr!)


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